A Good Start
by Kyonomiko
Summary: Hermione is looking for a little privacy, trying to avoid the revelry of the party happening in her common room. Unfortunately, she won't find any privacy in her own bed. Based on a Tumblr prompt from MrBenzedrine. Dramione Eighth Year EWE


**Happy Easter! Quick one shot based on a Tumblr prompt from MrBenzedrine. I've never done one of these prompts or challenges but it was rather fun.**

 _ **Prompt: Someone's in your character's bed. They aren't welcome there, but they refuse to leave.**_

"Aw, come on, Granger. Already?"

Hermione is looking down her nose at her fellow Head Student, Theo Nott. He has his hand wrapped around her wrist in his attempt to stop her from disappearing to her room, a pout on his lips.

It's tradition, she was told. The Heads _always_ throw a party in the common room at year's end. Funny how she attended Hogwarts for so many years without ever hearing about it before. Unfortunately, when she voiced that objection, she was told that's because she's a swot and a prude and no one would trust her to know such a thing. Draco Malfoy nearly earned another punch to the nose that day.

She does a cursory glance around the room and says, "I'm sure my departure won't do anything to slow things down. Just, have everyone out by breakfast, alright?"

He shrugs and says, "Suit yourself," before turning back to Daphne Greengrass who is nearly straddling his lap. Hermione grimaces as their kiss immediately goes to an adult-rated scenario. In the middle of their common room? In front of all these people? Hermione hadn't appreciated being called a prude but she does like to think she was raised to have standards.

She reaches her room in a hurry, locking and casting a silencing charm behind her. The lights are already dim and she wants nothing more than to crawl into her bed for the last time. Tomorrow she will board the express for the final trip. In a week, she starts an internship at the ministry. Life is about to happen very fast. One might think that spending her formative years in a war would prepare her better, but there is a sense of her childhood passing her by that can only be brought about by the end of her formal schooling.

Carefully, she slips her shoes off her feet and sighs as her toes curl in to the plush rug that covers half her floor. Six years of stone floor and another year of living in a tent and Hermione decided that by God and Merlin she was having a comfortable fucking room this year. Her parents picked it up from Ikea.

Trudging over to her bed, she vaguely notices her coverings are completely messed up. She was sure she had made her bed before she left for her final day of tests. If she wasn't so completely exhausted, she might think more on it. Instead, she lifts the edge, grappling for it a little in the low light, and slides in…

…only to find herself nose to nose with Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy! What the hell are you doing in my room?!"

He's looking at her bleary eyed and then, in a move that shocks her speechless, he scoops his arm around her waist and pulls her close, nuzzling his nose against this cheek.

She stutters a bit, mumbling incoherent arguments until finally, smelling the Firewhiskey on his breath, lands on, "I think you're in the wrong room."

"Hmm mmmm," he denies. "Right room, wrong time."

"I… were you supposed to meet someone here?" She has this icky feeling that starts in her toes and settles like sick in her throat. Did he arrange someone to… use her room with him? Astoria maybe? They've been awfully chummy this year. She thinks this with absolutely not an ounce of jealousy of course; only a strong since of injustice at the obvious invasion of privacy.

"Thought you'd be at the party longer," he murmurs. "Think I had a bit much."

Yes, she imagines he has. Nothing else could explain how cozy he's being at the moment.

"If you'll… if you'll let me go, I'll go get Theo for you. Maybe you can crash in his room."

"Don't want to," he pouts. Then, after a moment, "Why don't you call me Draco?"

"I… well, you call me Granger," she answers logically. "Why don't you call me Hermione?"

His eyes open now and lock into hers. Her lungs refuse to work as his hand brushes down her cheek, then cups her neck. "I would, if you want. I just like Granger. No one calls you that but me. Feels… personal."

She decides to ignore that nonsense completely. "What are you doing here? Did you know this was my room?"

He grunts in a noncommittal way that sounds like "yes" and then doesn't elaborate. Hermione sighs and tries to break out of his hold. His arm tightens around her.

"Stay. S'your bed anyway. You should stay."

"You're right," Hermione agrees. "It is. Why don't we see if we can find you another room?"

"No thanks. I like yours… Hermione."

Her frustration seems to be mounting now and she huffs, sympathy for his inebriated state quickly dissipating. "Just let go of me, Draco. I'll… I want to go back to the party. You can sleep this off."

His eyes are shut once more but his hold like a vice. He grins a silly lopsided grin. "I like how you say my name. You never say it. Sounds nice."

Hermione tries pushing against his chest and only manages in giving him a better hold, his other arm now circling her neck, his leg crawling between hers. "You are going to hate yourself in the morning for this, you know. What would your father say, hmm? Cozied up to a Mudblood."

"That's a shite word. You shouldn't call yourself that. Whazzat even mean… Mud…Blood. How would that even work? Blood is red. Yours is red. Stupid word, doesn't make sense."

Well it's messy, drunken gibberish but it makes her heart a little lighter to hear him deny the validity of his old prejudice. For the past nine months, Hermione has been slowly easing into a level of comfort around her formal rival. Being such good friends with Nott, Malfoy has been around a lot, crashing in their common room as if he is entitled to the place. Of course, being a Malfoy, she imagines he feels entitled to about everything.

Including, apparently, her bed.

"Look, I'm really happy to hear that. Maybe we can wax philosophic about bigotry another time. However, for now, I think you really need to sober up a bit.

"Potion on the desk," he mutters. She turns in his arms and indeed, there is a full bottle of Sober Up potion on her side table. Since she hadn't planned to drink much, and in fact rarely does, she assumes he brought it with him.

She reaches for it, half lifting herself from the bed to stretch and reach, feeling her heart race as Draco snuggles into her back, sliding his hand gently down her arm. When she settles back down, his hold doesn't give and she has to nudge him to flip back over. Facing him, she studies his face for the briefest moment. An urge to sweep his platinum bangs from his eyes is almost too much to resist.

So she does.

He expels one hard breath from his nose before squeezes his eyes shut, seeming to enjoy her attentions. "Can you drink it? Do you need help?"

"I don't know if I want it," he says back quietly.

Hermione nods in understanding. "I won't tell anyone how I found you, I promise. I'm sure you don't want anyone to find out…"

He doesn't agree or make any response that he even heard her. Instead, he holds out his hand for the vial, leaning up to drink. He doesn't release his hold on her, however, and Hermione braces herself for the awkward situation to follow.

She doesn't open her eyes when he says "done" in that clear, crisp cadence of his high society voice. She just nods and starts to pull away, only to find herself just as trapped as she was before.

"I told you, I won't say anything. You don't need to threaten me or find something to hold over my head. Just, go on back to the party."

"I'm done with the party," he announces clearly and still doesn't move.

Her eyes open now to find him studying her. His eyes are suddenly bright and sharp and she feels pinned like an insect by his stare. "Are you afraid someone will catch you leaving from here?"

He smirks now, in that infuriating Malfoy way he has, and shakes his head. "I'm just not ready to leave yet, Granger."

Granger. She didn't realize she had liked him using her first name. It stings a little, how he slips back in. He said it sounded personal, like it signified something between them, but somehow to her it sounds like dismissal. It manages to harden her resolve.

"Let go, Malfoy. Get out of my bed."

He stiffens so obviously she can feel it where their bodies are flush together. "Back to Malfoy is it?"

"Surprised you remember much else, completely obliterated as you obviously were. Anyway, you're back to Granger so it just seemed fitting. Back to the natural order."

Draco searches her gaze and she doesn't care for that little flutter she feels, the git getting under her skin yet again. "And what is the natural order then?"

"You know: You versus me. Pureblood versus mudblood. Order versus-"

"Don't you fucking say 'Death eater'", he growls. "And stop calling yourself a mudblood."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Whatever you say, _Draco_. Just, let me go. _Please_ ," she entreats sincerely. This whole situation has just moved into the super bizarre and she needs to get away.

"Tomorrow is our last day," he finally offers, like it explains everything. Like it washes away his odd behavior.

"It is. I'm sure you have a busy summer ahead. Officially inheriting the family business I hear, with your father in Azkaban."

Draco nods but still doesn't let her go. Still pulls her close. "And you?" He asks. "Tapped for the ministry, everyone is saying."

Hermione whispers, "yes" but is having trouble concentrating, her nose nearly brushing his lips. Her lashes brushing against his cheek when she blinks. She can't help it, she blinks slowly, on purpose, feeling the drag against his skin, then looks up through those same lashes to lock with his gaze once more. Yes, she's flirting. No, she doesn't think it's a smart move. She'll thank everyone not to judge her too harshly. She's a nineteen year old woman with a drop dead handsome man wrapped up in her bed and she hasn't had any physical contact since her breakup with Ron in January.

Maybe running her leg up his calf was pushing it a bit far but really, he's the one that won't leave.

She feels him groan and then the tickle of his lips, softly fluttering against her cheek as he speaks. "I wasted the whole year."

"Wasted…?"

"The whole fucking year I tried to talk to you. Tried to tell you how sorry… fuck. I'm not good at this, Granger. Why do you think I got drunk before this party even started? I've been waiting for you. I don't want you to leave tomorrow and never…"

He tilts her chin up and presses his lips to her mouth, sliding together so that her lips pillow his lush bottom lip, his tongue peeking out to wet hers just before he lightly nibbles at her.

He pulls back and finishes, "and never doing that."

"Is that…" She's trying to catch her breath and understand just want is happening. "Is that all? Just wanted to… to do that?"

Draco chuckles and smooths his hand down her back, soothing her like a kitten. "No. Not all. But it's a good place to start isn't it, Hermione?"

She blinks up at him and nods, her given name rendering her mute.

"Tomorrow, when we reach the station, can I take you to dinner before you go home? I'd like… well I feel like I actually know you pretty well. Been watching you all year after all. But I'd like _you_ to get to know _me_."

"Alright," she agrees, a little breathless. Hermione swallows and, a little nervous as to his answer, asks, "And tonight?"

He looks a little surprised and then kisses her forehead before starting to sit up. "I guess tonight you need some sleep and I've imposed long enough?"

She doesn't miss that it's a question in his voice any more than she could deny her disappointment that he's trying to leave. Instead, she lays her hand on his arm, no hesitation as it lands on the faded ink of his mark.

He looks at her in question and she's not sure she knows the answer either. Instead of words she just pulls him back down and pillows her head on his shoulder. They lay there, breathing in time with each other, staring into the near dark of the room.

"Would you like to sit with me… on the train?"

She holds her breath and finally she hears his answer, a soft, "I'd like that" in the silence.

She smiles and assumes he can feel it, her lips pressed against his chest. "Good night, Draco."

"Good night, Hermione." A soft kiss to the curls on her head settles her into a content sleep.

He's right; it's a good place to start.

 **A/N**

 **This got exactly one edit so it's a bit raw. Just a casual one shot I hope was mildly entertaining. As always reviews, faves, and follows are lovely if you would be so kind. Working on revision of next chapter of _I Am Jack's_ so look out for that soon as well!**


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